Mistakes Happen
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: A Nurse Nellie story - about taking responsibility, facing the truth, and being adult when it's the last thing you want to be.  Warning - angst ahead


I don't care what anyone says. The first thing you do when you find out you're pregnant is cry. They might be tears of happiness, but in my case, they were tears of fear. Well, fear and anger… not so much anger at the guy who got me in this position. Rather it was anger at myself for being so stupid. I'm a nurse, for God's sake. I should have known better; I should have realized that doctors make mistakes; I should have realized the body's incredible ability to heal itself. I didn't, I was human and I made a mistake and now this…

Don't get me wrong,; I love kids! I spoil my nieces and nephews rotten as only a favorite aunt can. I want to have kids, just not now and not with a guy whose life is measured in minutes. I like Illya a lot. He's a good man, but not what I would consider the perfect husband material. And don't even get started on what my mother would think.

Just the thought of telling her made me want to vomit. Or it might be morning sickness, I'm not sure.

I left the doctor's office and went straight home. I'd let my supervisor know that I hadn't been feeling well – boy, was that an understatement. I stripped off, put on my favorite robe and gave in to the Mother of All Crying Jags. How did this happen? Okay, don't lecture, I know how it happened. And I know it wasn't entirely my fault, but you see, it really was. Illya was going for the condoms when I stopped him. He hadn't read the report from his last physical. He didn't know what that last bout of radiation had done to his sperm count and I wasn't going to be the one to tell him. He didn't know he was sterile and I did… Well, I thought I did. Guess I was wrong. Unless this was the Cecond Coming, but my name is Nellie, not Mary and there was nothing immaculate about this conception. It was just us doing what came naturally.

After I cried myself out, I was quiet for a long time, my hand resting on my abdomen. It would still be a few weeks before anything started to show – a few weeks for me to decide what to do with my life. I'm Catholic, so I wouldn't have an abortion, even if they are legal in New York. I certainly couldn't tell Illya. He'd want to do the right thing and marry me, give our child his name. And as much as I like Illya, enjoy his company, enjoy his sexuality, I don't love him, not the way a woman should love a man she agrees to marry. Besides, if he married me, he'd be pulled from the field and away from Napoleon. Would Illya hate me for that? Who would watch out for Napoleon? And if something happened to Napoleon, would Illya blame me for it because he wasn't there to save his partner? It made my brain and heart ache to think about it.

That left me with two options: having the child and raising it myself, not something I necessarily had envisioned for myself, or having the child and putting it up for adoption. What if it was a little girl with my curly dark hair and his blue eyes? Or a blond little boy with his bottom lip? I dissolved into a whole new wave of tears.

I had really messed up this time… and not just me. My God, Illya, what have I done to us?

Good news travels fast, bad news even faster. By the end of the week, most of my co-workers knew about my delicate condition. But no one knew who the father was. People were guessing, most thinking that it was Napoleon – his reputation for seduction being what it is. That was sort of funny as he considered me off-limits, but no one knew about Illya and me besides Napoleon. It was our little three-way secret.

I was happy the guys were on assignment; bouncing all over the world with just a few seconds to call their own. This was business as usual. I didn't normally even see them until one came in stretched out on a gurney. See why I didn't want Illya for a husband? It was hard enough to stay emotionally disconnected as it was. If we were married, I'd be a nervous wreck all the time.

I took to wearing a loose cardigan, even though it was summer. Joyce, my supervisor, bumped up the air conditioning a few degrees to accommodate me. I was hot; I was sick, both to my stomach and at heart.

You see, there was something else, something I had to really think about. Illya had been exposed to large amounts of radiation; what if that had affected him on a genetic level? There were TV reports about babies being born with horrific birth defects following the bombings in Japan. Radiation fallout was to blame. What if my baby was born with some sort of terrible health or mental defect? God was really having a field day with me, piling guilt upon guilt on my shoulders. It was nearly impossible to keep anything down as it was. I couldn't sleep for the nightmares; I couldn't eat. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and make it all go away.

At least Illya and Napoleon were being spared this…

Until they showed up on my watch. I put on my best game face and grinned at them.

"Hey, guys, long time no see. And you're both standing; that's a first."

It didn't wash and one look at their faces told me everything. Illya put a hand beneath my elbow and propelled me towards an exam room. Napoleon stopped at the door and pulled it shut. Keeping guard, I suspect.

"Illya?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" I decided to play the dumb card.

He pushed aside my sweater and placed a hand, one that nearly encompassed my entire abdomen, over my swollen belly. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

I went for broke, hoping that God would allow me just a tiny bit of slack. "What makes you think it's yours?"

"What?" His eyes were a mixture of confusion, hurt and just a little relief.

"Check out your latest medical report, Illya. Thanks to Dr. Moonglow, both you and Napoleon are shooting blanks now." I tried to make my tone casual while I watched the words rip him apart. "You're not the only rooster in the hen house, you know…"

He took a step away from me while I tried to keep from sobbing at what his face was betraying. Then he was gone and I was free to let go of the emotions. It took me nearly half an hour to get enough control back to mumble some excuse and flee for home.

I'd been feeling lousy all day, even though I was well out of my first trimester. It didn't surprise me though. My oldest sister had had morning sickness up to the day she'd had her son. Same with my other sister. The doctor gave me something for the nausea, but one of the side effects was hair growth. Hmm, vomiting or growing a mustache… not that much of a choice in my book.

Usually by this time of the day, I was feeling okay, but not tonight. I chalked it up to my lying to Illya and somehow managed to get from HQ to home, although I can't honestly say I remember much of the journey. The body went into automatic mode and the next thing I knew, I was unlocking my front door and trying to keep from doubling over.

I headed for the bathroom, struggling out of my sweater as I did and that's when I realized the bottom of my starched white uniform was red… blood red and a whole new wave of pain and panic caught me.I got to the bathroom on sheer will power. The pain was like nothing I'd ever experienced. It felt like the world's worst period cramps, while being kicked in your back and punched in your stomach all at the same time. I was trying for the bathtub, but got as far as the fuzzy pink rug in front of the toilet, the same rug Illya teased me unmercifully about the last time he'd spent the night.

I groaned and sobbed at the pain. God was killing me, I knew it. I was being made to suffer for my sins and I started to mumble a prayer, hoping beyond hope He'd hear and forgive.

Suddenly, there were arms around me, familiar and strong. I could hear a voice gently talking to me, and then barking orders in the next moment.

"Hang on, Nellie, help is coming."

It didn't matter I died now; Illya knew I was paying the price for lying to him and that was enough. Then the world got all soft, fuzzy, and red.

When I opened my eyes, it wasn't to fire and brimstone, it was to the cool white walls of one of the recovery rooms in Medical.

"You're awake." There was a hand, steering clear of an IV line, stroking my hand softly.

It took me a couple of tries. "Illya?" A wave of nausea washed over me and I began to retch.

"Take deep breaths," he instructed, just as I had a million times over. He rubbed my back until the nausea passed.

"What happened?"

"You miscarried the baby. The doctor said the genetic damage to the fetus was too great." He sighed and tried for a smile. "I'm sorry.

I was too tired and sore to even muster any energy. "Why were you there?"

"I did as you suggested and checked with Medical. Even if I wasn't the father, I was willing…" His voice broke a bit, then. "It was mine, wasn't it?" His voice sort of gave out at that point.

I nodded. "Oh, Illya, I'm so sorry… I didn't want to lie, I was trying to spare you..." I started to cry again and felt him holding me. Then I realized I wasn't the only one crying. I wasn't the only one grieving this loss.

Even though I hadn't wanted this child, even though I knew this was the best thing that could have happened, that did nothing to assuage the pain and emptiness I felt. I felt like a little bit of my soul had been ripped from me in the most brutal way possible. God has a way of really teaching you a lesson at times.

In spite of the sadness that gripped my heart, I was thankful for the comfort of not being alone in this. The healing would happen, this I knew. I'd laugh again, I'd love again, albeit more cautiously, but for now, I'd grieve, with my friend, and that was enough. I only hoped that after all of this, he would remain my friend. I hoped this wouldn't destroy what we had, but only time would be the judge of that. I only pray I will be strong enough to accept the outcome.


End file.
